Three Year Olds???

England glanced out his window in the airplane. He had easily wrangled seat in first class on a plane from London to New York. Arthur supposed that Alfred would be in his New York apartment since he had told Arthur that he would be there until the Masque –which was being held in Russia- England hoped that Alfred hadn't changed his mind and would still be there. His leg bounced as he anxiously waited for the plane to arrive at its destination. God knows how many cups of Earl Grey he had consumed on the plane. Irrelevant, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep until he had Alfred securely in his arms and back in London with the frog and Matthew.

When the plane did land it wasn't a moment too soon either because Arthur was starting to really freak out. Quickly he located a taxi and got the man to drive him to Alfred's address. Which was located in Central Park West on the island of Manhattan. Arthur fast-walked (because a gentleman does NOT jog) up to the buildings doorman. The man smiled at him charmingly and swung the door open when Arthur told him he was here to see Alfred F. Jones. He quickly made it through the foyer and into the elevator. As he stepped inside and the doors closed he felt a moment of relief. He was in the building and he was almost certain that Alfred was in the penthouse room. But sooner rather than later the feeling had returned and had intensified ten-fold. Arthur was itching to pace in the small elevator but his pride and dignity would not allow him to fidget or pace. So, instead, he contented himself with fiddling with the handle on his luggage bag. If all went well he'd only have to stay here for a day or two –hopefully only one- in fact the Brit hoped to be on a plane home before the day was out.

The elevator dinged making Arthur nearly jump out of his skin, but he quickly regained his dignity and strode out the Elevator doors. The Penthouse suite was definitely huge and spacious. Much more than Alfred needed –but then Alfred always did need a lot of room to move. Arthur didn't stop to look around; instead he dumped his luggage bag onto the floor and searched for Alfred.

"Alfred?!" Arthur called out.

"England?" Came a quiet voice.

Arthur spun around breathlessly and he crouched down –hidden behind the doorway were a pair of big sky blue eyes. "Alfred, are you alright?" Arthur asked.

"Awfur… whewe awe we?" Came his whisper. "We… we wewe supposed to be on a boat going fwom the New Wowld to London. You said so… so… why awe we hewe? It's too big and you wewen't hewe and… and…" Alfred sniffled and tears welled in his eyes.

Arthur gasped. Alfred didn't remember a blooming thing; the last he remembered was the first time England had brought him to London that made the boy roughly around three or four physically wise. Arthur gently held out his arms to the small boy and the child ran to him, outright sobbing as he clenched his fingers around England's neck. Arthur noticed that the young boy didn't have any clothes on. Which fit, England thought wryly, his clothes wouldn't shrink with him.

"Are you alright, Alfred?" Arthur asked the boy softly, cradling the boys chin in his hands and brushing the tears away with his thumbs.

Alfred gave him a beaming smile, his tears erased. "I'm awesome now that youw hewe!" He giggled.

England grinned at him and picked the boy up, balancing on his hip. "We'll have to find you some clothes then, aye?"

"Mhmm!" Alfred nodded sleepily, wrapping his arms around England's neck once more and falling asleep, his head on Arthur's shoulder.

Arthur smiled softly. Now he could remember how he had cared for the boy in the first place. He was much sweeter then. Arthur quickly grabbed his credit card and made to slip out the door. Hopefully he'd be able to grab some clothes for the boy before Alfred woke up and got scared once more. Idly he wondered how France was doing.

----------------------IN THE GREAT WHITE NORTH------------------------

Francis hummed quietly as he slid his key into the lock at Matthew's home in Ottawa. He knew Matthew would be here even if Arthur were being serious, rolling his eyes he opened the door smoothly. Looking around he called out.

"Mathieu? Cher?" Francis called.

"Papa?" Came the whispery voice.

Looking up, Francis gasped, there was Mathieu and sure enough he looked to be around three or four. He wasn't wearing anything and his big blue-purple eyes were filled with tears and tear streaks stained his cheeks. He was peeking between the bars of the hallway railing.

"Cher!" Francis gasped out. Taking the stairs two at a time Francis scooped the small boy up into his arms.

"Papa!" Mathieu gasped and clenched France's hair in his tiny grip.

"Oh cher! You need clothes, baby." Francis murmured.

"Papa, je ne vous comprends pas! Qu'est-ce... Que dites-vous?" Mathieu asked hesitantly.

"Canada, ce que l'on parle? Tu sais bébé anglais! Mon fils... Avez-vous oublié?" Francis asked him quickly.

"Oublié quoi? Et en anglais...? Tu veux dire que l'homme vous êtes toujours à hurler? L'idiot?" Mathieu asked, genuinely confused.

A huge grin split across Francis' face. "Mon chérie, tu te souviens comment aider Papa faire des vêtements?"

Mathieu giggled. "Oui Papa!"

"Excellent, mon fils, parce que vous avez besoin de vêtements et je crois que vous avez un peu de vêtements que vous n'avez pas besoin de toute façon ... pas le temps que le présent pour se débarrasser d'elle, oui?" Francis chuckled as he picked his small son up.

"OUI!" Mathieu giggled as Francis set about to make the small child clothing.

All the while the Frenchman was in turmoil. Apparently the Englishman was right for once, a tugging at his pant leg made him look down. Kumajiro sat at his feet, gazing up at him with his black button eyes. France smiled at the polar bear and gestured for him to follow. Kumajiro lumbered next to him as Francis set about cutting down and re-sewing clothing to make new, stylish clothes for the small child.

Well, I didn't expect to update this fast but I promised an update once I got five reviews and I got five reviews, so here you all go. XD I've decided that they're going to start out very young. I won't say anymore other than they will go through different ages before they become their regular one.

French Translations:

Daddy, I don't understand you! What... what are you saying?

Canada, you don't know what I'm saying? You speak English baby! My son... have you forgotten?

Forgotten what? And the English...? You mean that man that you are always yelling about? The stupid one?

Dear one, do you remember how to help Daddy make clothes?

Excellent my son! Because you need clothes and I do believe that you have other clothes that need to go... no time like the present, yes?

If I get 15 reviews I'll update very soon. :D But I won't update until I get 15, c'mon guys I posted my prologue not three hours ago! You can do this! :D

REVIEW!!!!!